Page 147 of Devoured

The faerie soldier behind Lyra steps forward. He stands tall, his muscles sinewy rather than brutish, and locks of amber hair hang to his waist and tangle with his ever-moving tail. “You are among the first to realize the truth, Cora Severi. However, you are also among the first to scorn us. It was because of you that we felt we had no choice other than to fall. Interesting, then, that you have also called on us to fight for you and bestow upon you our magic and loyalty.”

“For a price,” Cora says. “I was always willing to pay a price.”

“Ah, yes.” The faerie strokes his jawline with a smooth thumb. It ends in a pointed spike. “Your sacrifice. Lyra explained this to us. You believe with a simple sacrifice, you might earn back our favor and, thus, your magic. Your gifts have not worked in many months now—is that correct?”

I stare between them, stricken, as realization dawns. Her Dreamweaver abilities—she hasn’t used them. Of course she hasn’t used them. We should have guessed. I shouldn’t be standing here feeling utter shock, dread. Cora shouldn’t be winning right now.

But Cora is going to make a sacrifice.

Sin tenses, his expression shuttering as he glances from his mother to me. I don’t meet his gaze. I don’t want to confirm his betrayal.

“When I reclaimed this castle, I unlocked the room where my sister hid all the ancient texts. She never kept the records with the rest of the library. She never let the public read the true history. Only enough that they thought they understood it. We were raised to believe you had fled, but you had not. We were raised to believe you were benevolent, but you are not.” Cora lifts her chin. “Yes, when this rite is over, I shall present you with a sacrifice. You see, we have a traitor in our midst. And I believe it is time she finally pays for her crimes.”

And now she looks at—Evie.

No.

My lungs seize. I choke on a painful breath.

The faerie soldiers don’t move, but Kaax grips her to his side with claws slicing through her dress, through her waist, as he smiles down at her with razor-sharp teeth. “My terrible, terrible bride. Were you ever going to tell me that you’re a filthy traitor?”

Evie struggles against that grasp, but the more she does, the deeper those claws cut her. The more they drip blood on the vibrant white of her gown.

No no no.

Cora couldn’t know—she can’t know. My bones twitch under my skin. I pivot to lunge, to save her, but Evie glares at me. She shakes her head. Just once. Just to say: “Stand down.”

How can I? Kaax is hurting her. Cora is going to kill her.

I glance down at my purple nails. My hands shake, and Cora glances back to smile at me. She smiles because she knows.

She can’t she can’t she can’t.

Sin looks between Evie, his mother, and me. His brow furrows, and our pulses thump unevenly in unison. Then he turns. Away from me, away from Evie, and toward Cora.

“You didn’t tell me,” Sin says. As if that matters now when Kaax has impaled Evie’s hip. “You didn’t tell me about any of this.”

Cora closes the distance between them, and her nails drift up toward his throat. His flesh puckers under their sharp touch. “Return to the arch and let us proceed with the rite. We can discuss all of this after. I’ll tell you everything you could ever wish to know.”

Pulling him by his arm, she leads him to the arch, to me, and looks out at her captive audience. Every eye tracks her with careful precision. Every body moves as if pulled toward her by an invisible force. Even Portia. Even Calix now. “There will be no mindless bloodshed on this day,” she repeats. “Though Evelyn has tried her best to tear at the very fabric of this court with her alchemical poisons and her paralyzations, we will rise above. And once the rite is over, she will be punished as she deserves.” She sends Evie a malicious grin. “We will regain our magic, and she will lose every ounce of hers. I’m sorry, Kaax—but I promise you a faithful mate in turn.”

“Of course,” Kaax answers, still impaling Evie even as he bows. “I trust you implicitly.”

Evie’s knees buckle, but she doesn’t scream or thrash. She meets my gaze with a deathly calm. As if she is prepared to meet whatever end the day brings. No. I grit my teeth with determination. No, I won’t let Cora kill her.

It’s time to finish this.

It’s time to end the performance and bring this madness to a close.

I look past Sin, past Cora, past those soldiers, and find a man in the crowd. A man with thick chestnut hair and gleaming golden eyes.

With one look from me, he releases the tether to his disguise, and those golden eyes slowly bleed to true and irrefutable silver.

His ears arc to a point. His hair grows all the way to his waist, and his eyes fracture. That silver splinters into a diamond of reflections—just like a spider’s.

For months, I thought Portia killed that demonic spider. I thought she ripped out its heart and left it to die in the forest. But when I asked her days ago, she said the spider’s body had vanished almost instantly, leaving only its web and a faintly sweet, metallic scent behind.

She confirmed my every suspicion.